


The Wisdom That You Brought

by the_rck



Series: Vialle, Daughter of Oberon [1]
Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Blind Character, F/M, Intrigue, Misses Clause Challenge, POV Female Character, Sibling Incest, Vialle POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8646781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: Vialle's connection to Amber began much earlier than when she first met Random.





	1. Printed in Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueorangecrush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueorangecrush/gifts).



> Main title is from William Butler Yeats: “Under Saturn.”
> 
> First chapter title is from Mina Loy: “Love Songs to Joannes.”
> 
> Second chapter title is from Wallace Stevens: “Somnambulisma.”
> 
> Third chapter title is from Elizabeth Barrett Browning: Sonnet XXIX in Sonnets from the Portuguese
> 
> Fourth chapter title is from Elizabeth Barrett Browning: Sonnet V in Sonnets from the Portuguese

Vialle was fourteen when it first occurred to her that Llewella might have killed her parents. She was twenty two before she gathered the courage to ask. They were in private, of course. Vialle wasn’t foolish enough to ask such a question when anyone else might hear. They were sitting next to each other while Llewella guided Vialle in using a loom. 

Vialle was pretty certain that she no longer needed that guidance, but Llewella seemed to enjoy the time they spent on the task. Llewella often said that being able to make things, to shape things, to build things, was the truest joy in the world. She had taught Vialle the making of many different things-- ceramics, stone work, a little pottery and clay sculpture (though she said that worked better on land than in Rebma). Llewella said that it was important that Vialle be able to tell even very similar substances apart by touch.

When Vialle asked the question, Llewella went utterly still beside her. Vialle was certain it wasn’t anger, and that alone made her feel somewhat better.

After a moment, Llewella relaxed and sighed. She brushed fingers along Vialle’s cheek. “I’d kill your father if I could, but I never hurt your mother. She… I’ve told you before that she was a loyal friend.”

She had, but Vialle had realized long ago that what wasn’t said mattered, too. Llewella was quite capable of using the truth to obscure something harsher. Vialle had heard her do it many times and had long ago decided that it was a trick she needed to learn.

Vialle kept her shuttle moving. “No one has said anything but that it was a sad chance and that I’m lucky you’ve been kind. I’m not sure how they’ve missed that you’re… more than kind.” Vialle had never doubted that Llewella loved her, and she’d never understood how it was that everyone else failed to see it.

Llewella sighed again. “Your mother… She had not-- She did not chose your father.” 

There was pain enough in the words that Vialle almost told Llewella to stop, that she didn’t actually want to know. “I… wondered.” This was a different ugliness than she’d feared. Except that this didn’t make the other possibility false. “Who was he?”

Llewella shifted in her seat.

Vialle could feel the urge to lie rising in Llewella’s body, but she also felt the moment Llewella let it go.

Llewella took the shuttle from Vialle’s hand and put her arms around Vialle. She leaned her head against Vialle’s. “We share a father, you and I. He doesn’t, mustn’t, know. I’d have lied to him anyway and told him you weren’t his, but…” She sounded a little as if she were choking on the words. “My mother told me that he kills the weak ones. No one else says it, but I can’t think why she’d have lied, and… He can make people forget things, but mother can sometimes remember anyway. That’s why he never took me.” She took a deep breath, hesitated for a moment, then went on, “I worry that, if he realizes, he’ll decide--” She shook her head. “Don’t let Oberon of Amber see you-- ever-- if I am not there beside you. I can keep him from perceiving the potential in your blood.”

Vialle couldn’t quite manage to feel frightened. She didn’t disbelieve what Llewella was saying, but it made no sense to her. “I--” She had no idea at all what she should even say. “Is that why you take care of me?”

“Because we’re sisters?” Llewella straightened and pulled Vialle to lean against her shoulder. “That’s what sisters do. What they should do. Moire took care of me when mother--” Her voice broke slightly. “Mother wanted me as a useful thing. It never occurred to her that a child would be, well, a child. I suppose… At least, she protected me from Oberon. Even if it was purely pragmatic.” She started stroking Vialle’s hair. “When Moire is Queen, I will help her in any way I can.”

Vialle understood that to mean that Llewella would help Queen Morwenna with nothing at all, and she wondered how long it would be until the funeral. She cleared her throat. “I will, too,” she promised.

“I don’t know if we dare risk the Pattern.”

Vialle hadn’t quite gotten as far as realizing that that might be something available.

“I’m not sure enough that you could tell where the lines are, not yet, maybe not ever, and a misstep would be fatal. There are-- Well, I’ve heard that there are ways of perceiving power that have nothing to do with the eyes. Maybe those would let you perceive the true path, the safe path. I just… I haven’t learned them yet. I’ve been teaching you the beginnings of what I know about other forms of power, but it’s hard because so much of what I’ve been taught relies on reading and on seeing. I have to find other approaches, and I… Well, I can see, so I don’t know how else to do things.” Llewella’s arms tightened around Vialle’s shoulders. “I will learn. I promise you. If I can’t find the right tools, I’ll help you figure out how to find them yourself.”

It wasn’t until three days later that Vialle realized that Llewella had never actually said that she hadn’t killed Vialle’s mother.


	2. By Water Washed Away

Vialle had no idea how to react to the news that she was getting married. To her brother. Not that the Queen knew that or that Prince Random knew either. She was alone in her room, pacing back and forth and hoping that Llewella would come and tell her what to do. All she knew about her husband to be was what he’d done to Morganthe and not done for Martin and that Llewella described him as ‘an arrogant little shit.’

Queen Moire had been quite clear that this wedding would give Vialle status that she currently lacked, status appropriate to the amount of time and attention that Llewella had given her. The Queen had added that that wasn’t entirely the point. “If you can manage a child, I will be very pleased. Rebma can grow stronger through that, and we already know that Prince Random won’t interfere in his child’s life.”

Vialle was pretty sure that she could avoid the marriage by telling the Queen that the Prince was her brother, but she also knew that that would lead the Queen to make other demands. One child, Vialle thought might not be a terrible thing, but Queen Moire would expect more from a daughter of Oberon who she thought was helpless. She urged Llewella to have children, but her leverage there was limited to the love between them. Llewella could simply walk away at any time.

Vialle could, too, but she really didn’t want anyone to know that she could Shadow shift. She still wasn’t sure of herself in doing it and hesitated to travel alone. She couldn’t activate a Trump without someone else to serve as eyes, so she couldn’t rely on the method of retreat that Martin had used when he was first learning.

She heard her door open and assumed it was Llewella, but the footsteps sounded nothing like her sister’s, so she stepped back to put her work table between herself and the unknown.

The door shut, and a man’s voice said, “Your pardon. I was afraid, if I knocked and waited, someone would realize I… wasn’t supposed to be out and about.”

“Who are you?” Vialle kept her voice steady. She was already certain who he had to be. There were only two options, and Prince Corwin was otherwise… occupied. She could feel the Pattern in him, and she wondered if he’d notice it in her. Llewella said that not everyone could, that family members could easily pass each other by without realizing they shared that. Vialle had never understood how anyone could miss it.

She heard his clothing rustle and assumed he’d bowed to her.

“Prince Random of Amber, my lady.” He cleared his throat, and she realized that he wasn’t comfortable with the situation either. “I-- Having us meet for the first time at the wedding seemed--” He hesitated for a few seconds. “I would not have my punishment be yours.”

“Ah.” She came back around the table. If he wanted to do her violence, all he had to do was to wait until they were married. Stopping him then would be difficult if she wasn’t going to openly upset the Queen’s plans. She found her chair and turned it from the work table to face the room. “You’re welcome to sit.” She did so herself without waiting for him to respond. 

She was pleased when she heard him shift a chair and sit. It would be harder for him to surprise her if he had to stand. That was one reason all of her chairs creaked and why she kept her floors bare stone. Martin had told her of wooden floors designed to let the owner know exactly where someone was stepping by the sounds the boards made. Unfortunately, wood did poorly in Rebma, and Vialle hadn’t yet figured out a way to make stone speak.

“I’m not carrying weapons,” he told her after several seconds of silence.

Vialle was, but she wasn’t going to tell him that if he didn’t guess. “I’m not so much worried about knives and swords,” she replied. “If you used such on me, I do not think the Queen would stop at demanding you marry someone else.” She wondered if the Prince understood what Queen Moire could do. Llewella said that those of Oberon’s blood thought that the Pattern was everything, and the Queen’s power derived from other sources. She folded her hands in her lap. “If you made it this far, it’s most likely that the Queen decided that I should be able to meet you.”

Even across the room, she could feel him take offense, and she laughed. “Sound carries well in water, scent, too. It may be that no one saw you, but it is certain that they noticed you.” Which either meant that Llewella considered Vialle safe enough for the moment or that Llewella would arrive shortly. Vialle wasn’t sure which she preferred.

“Does sound carry beyond your walls?”

She hesitated. “If I wish it to.” She thought that that didn’t reveal too much. Any Rebman woman might know some magic. “Is what you have to say so very private?” She tensed a little, and it took effort not to reach for one of her hidden knives.

He sighed. “You’re beautiful. I didn’t expect that. It makes things harder.”

She heard admiration in his voice and, with it, the assumption that anything he wanted could be his if he simply reached out his hand. She had no mind to be fruit that easily plucked. “I am not Morganthe.” The words were sharper than she’d meant.

“No.” His chair creaked as he shifted on the seat. “No. Morganthe was eager.”

“Morganthe was very, very young.”

He didn’t respond for a moment then said, “So was I.” There was a long silence. “I brought her home. What happened after… I didn’t force her to do anything. I didn’t guess she would.” He didn’t sound particularly sad, but he also didn’t sound like he was trying to avoid responsibility.

Vialle inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“What will you do if I hurt you?” He sounded morbidly curious.

“That would depend,” she responded, “on whether you intended harm or not.” She wondered how hard it would actually be to drug him. She knew things that might work to keep him placid if worst came to worst. The Queen wouldn’t care as long as his reproductive organs continued to function. “And on whether you regretted and amended the harm, too. Repeated carelessness is as destructive as malice.”

“Noted.” There was something in his voice that told her he was starting to realize that she didn’t consider herself helpless. “It is not my intention to, ah, force anything upon you.”

She allowed a bitter twist to her answering smile. “No, it is I who have orders to force you.” She wondered if he would understand what Queen Moire actually wanted and that he was getting off lightly.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just shifted again in his chair. He sighed. “If the prospect is too appalling, I can ask to marry someone else, or-- Well, I’m sure Moire could come up with some other punishment.” There was a grimness in his tone that Vialle took as meaning that he understood that matters could be much, much worse.

Vialle raised her chin. “The Queen believes that there is nothing to me but obedience. Anyone else she might choose would be--” Younger, more naive, more easily damaged. She hadn’t let herself consider before who might suffer if she didn’t marry her brother. Thinking of Prince Random as her brother was difficult, and that might help. She could marry a stranger who wasn’t her brother. She could. 

She inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. “No one outside can hear us. They haven’t for a while.”

“Thank you.” He stayed where he was. When he spoke again, he sounded puzzled. “You don’t want to. I can tell that. It’s just… It’s not the reasons I thought of. You’re not afraid of me.”

Not afraid of sex with him, he meant. She made herself look at that. “You wouldn’t be my first.” She hesitated. “You certainly have... a great many years on me. Princess Llewella tells me that time moves differently in different places, and you have not much been in Amber.”

“Dad and I are not… overly fond of each other. Right now, I’m a very much superfluous prince.” He almost managed a laugh. “If there’s one thing Amber doesn’t need, it’s more princes.”

She smiled as if he’d said something actually funny. “As well then that there are many other places you can go.” She didn’t add, ‘After a year with me.’ She didn’t think either of them were likely to forget.

“Yes.” He was silent for a moment. “Why don’t you want to marry me?”

She considered how to answer without lying then shrugged. “My foster mother, your sister, has not given me a flattering image of you.” True. “It’s also easier when no one notices me. As your wife, even once you’re gone, members of the court will track me.” Definitely true. It would make practicing Shadow walking considerably more difficult, and people might start asking questions about who her father had been. They already wondered why Llewella cared so much.

For the first time, she wondered if the Queen’s orders regarding her marriage were actually intended as a lever against Llewella. The Queen might think that Llewella would bend on other things to protect Vialle. A child from Llewella would be infinitely preferable to a child from Vialle and Prince Random. Or did the Queen believe those who whispered that Vialle must be either Llewella’s daughter or her lover? Was this a test to see if Llewella would intervene?

Would Llewella intervene?

She could almost hear Prince Random turning over her words and trying to find the hidden meanings. “Foster mother?” he asked softly after several seconds of silence.

“My mother was one of Princess Llewella’s ladies. She died when I was born, and Princess Llewella took me in. Your sister taught me-- or arranged for someone else to teach me-- everything I know.”

“That seems an unlikely thing for any of my siblings to do.” He didn’t sound entirely sure of that, so she guessed that he was saying it to see what else he could persuade her to reveal.

She smiled. “Anyone at court will tell you as much.” She wondered if anyone remembered her birthday or her age. Those might tell Prince Random more than she was prepared to. She gave a mental shrug. She didn’t consider it likely that he would connect Rebman dates with Amber ones and also remember exactly when Llewella and her ladies had last visited Amber. He might not even remember that, at one time, Llewella had only visited Amber when she had her ladies with her. Vialle wasn’t exactly certain when Prince Random had been born relative to her own birth.

She sighed. “I know that, given everything, I was unlikely to be able to marry someone else, but… I do regret that, too. Even a blind girl hopes for more than… this.” She wasn’t sure if the Queen expected the marriage to continue as long as they both lived or if annulment or divorce might be possible. Well, they likely would be for him, once he left Rebma. “I think the years will be long after you leave.”

“But you worry that the hours will be long while I’m here?”

“Your reputation in Rebma is…” She shrugged. Unless he was stupider than he seemed, she doubted he needed more than that.

He inhaled audibly. Then he sighed. “Has Llewella taught you poisons?”

She smiled and said nothing. That was answer enough.

“Does Moire know?”

Vialle shook her head. “I don’t believe she wants to.” If Queen Moire thought too much about Llewella and poisons, she might have to question how Queen Morwenna died.

When he spoke again, she could hear a frown in his voice. “Are you--” He hesitated. “Are you my niece?”

“Would that be a barrier?” She knew that it would be in many places, but Llewella didn’t seem to think that her siblings cared about such things, just that their father shouldn’t catch them at it.

“I… It’s not something I’d thought about.”

But he didn’t-- quite-- object. “To the best of my knowledge, Princess Llewella is not my mother.” She allowed herself a sigh. “And I’m older than Martin by years, so that’s not a possible complication.” She wondered what he’d say if he knew what Llewella did say about her parentage.

He moved sharply in his seat. “That would have been a barrier.” His words were dry but also emphatic. He didn’t say anything further.

She waited a while to see if he would. Then she said, “To be fair, if your sister were my mother, she would not want your father to know.” Let him keep wondering. “She says he ‘kills the weak ones’ and then makes you all forget.”

He inhaled audibly. “Yes. He does that. When he can. I… had a younger sister once.”

“Would he have the same objection to a blind daughter-in-law?”

“Dad hasn’t been around for… quite a while.” He didn’t sound as if he entirely believed that to be permanent. “And, as long as you stay in Rebma, he couldn’t touch you.”

“Officially.” She put as much cynicism into that as she could muster. “The Queen would not risk war for me.” Llewella would, but she would have to be Queen, and she would not harm her older sister. She shook her head. “I’m important enough not to be an insult to Amber but not enough that, if you harm me, there will be repercussions.” She turned her face as directly toward him as she could manage. “Official repercussions, at least. I will do what I will do, and the Princess will do what she will do. She doesn’t much like you. I am still undecided.”

He laughed, but the sound shook a little. “I suppose I can take that risk.” His words shook a little, too, and she thought he was taking her seriously.

“Our other options are… limited. I am not convinced you could run without dying, and I do not think Prince Eric would demand much from Queen Moire in recompense.”

His laugh sounded a little steadier now. “He’d send her a very nice present, I’m sure.”

“Possibly.” She smiled. “Though that would set a bad precedent.” She let her expression sharpen. “How hard will he try to get you and Princess Deirdre out of Rebma?”

“We’re not important enough. Corwin, though…”

She got the impression that he was waiting for her to say something. “Yes? Princess Llewella is not overly fond of him, either. She rather likes her sisters, but your father has too strong a hold on his sons.” That wasn’t entirely true. Llewella trusted Benedict completely, and she almost trusted Gerard but only for things affecting Martin.

His answering silence made her certain that she’d missed something.

“Prince Random?”

“Corwin said he knew you. No… Now that I think, he didn’t. I just assumed. It’s out of character for him to ask me to be kind to someone he doesn’t know at all.” He sounded as if he was trying to fit pieces together and finding that the shapes weren’t right.

“Prince Corwin has been missing for a long time. People do change.”

“We don’t.” He sounded so certain of it that she almost believed him.

“Then why bother?” She let genuine puzzlement into her voice. “If nothing changes at all, everything must be very, very dull.” She knew that Llewella had changed in the years they’d known each other. “Also, if none of you changed at all, you’d still be infants, and the court of Amber would be… rather different.”

His laugh sounded both startled and genuine, and she couldn’t help but smile in response.

Maybe, she thought, just maybe, we can make this work.


	3. Breathe Within Thy Shadow

Vialle completely understood why Random had thought he needed to make a grand gesture and try to rescue Corwin by killing Eric. She also very much wanted to slap him for it because even he had to know that it would end the way it had. If he’d shown a little patience, they might have found another way, one that would end with all of them safe and free. It wasn’t as if either Corwin or Eric were going anywhere.

She suspected that Random had chosen his course of action in full awareness of how she would feel. He had probably realized that the sensible courses of action all involved putting her at risk. She felt that the risk would have been minimal given that no one in Amber had the slightest idea what she looked like. She doubted that most of them even knew that the woman Random had married was blind. She also thought that, if she were caught, she would be treated better than Random would be.

“He’s in the dungeon.” Sympathy was clear in Llewella’s voice. She wasn’t nearly as angry as Vialle was because Llewella had never trusted Random to do better. “Nowhere near Corwin.”

Vialle clenched her hands then slowly relaxed them. “No chance, now, that they won’t be watching for me.”

Llewella put a hand on Vialle’s shoulder. “No. I don’t think so. The Ambassador was asking after you. I put him off, but he will ask someone else.”

Vialle wanted, almost more than she wanted Random back, to turn and weep on Llewella’s shoulder, but she knew that, if she did that, she would never be able to do the things she needed to do. She’d go back to being a child in Llewella’s shadow and never step out again. She raised her chin. “I have to go anyway.” She felt Llewella tense. “Officially, publicly. If what you say of the new king is true, he won’t mistreat me, and… I think he will treat Random better if I am there.”

“That’s a pit of vipers, Vialle, and you’ll be at the heart of it.”

“The court here is a pit of vipers, too.” Vialle managed something approaching a laugh. “I suspect that Amber’s court will consider me even less threatening and would even if I weren’t blind.”

“Eric may say no.”

Vialle considered that for a few moments. She smiled. “You can tell him that I told you that I want my child to know its father.”

“You’re not--?” Llewella sounded appalled. Vialle was fairly sure that it was at the idea of Vialle taking a child to Amber rather than at the idea of Vialle being pregnant.

Vialle shook her head then hesitated. “Well, I can’t be absolutely sure just yet, but I really doubt it very much.” And they both knew that Queen Moire wouldn’t let Vialle leave if she thought that Vialle was pregnant. Vialle just hoped that King Eric wouldn’t know that. “I just think that King Eric wouldn’t willingly have a child of Random’s outside of his control, not if exerting control was simple and unlikely to cause war.” She wondered where Martin was now and hoped that he would stay far away from Amber. She thought he would. Amber was too close to Rebma.

When Llewella finally spoke, there were both satisfaction and sadness in her voice. “Yes. I think that will do.” She squeezed Vialle’s shoulder gently. “I hadn’t quite realized that you were learning those lessons, too.” Llewella pulled Vialle in for a hug. “I will miss you, little sister, but I suppose we all have to venture out eventually. I just wish...”

“I know.” Vialle put her arms around Llewella in return. “This will be rather different from the way others have done it.” She felt tears coming and decided to allow them this time. “I’m going in rather than out.”

 

When Vialle stood in the throne room in Amber, she was feeling much less sure of herself. Air carried sound and scent very differently than water did, so she had much less certainty about her surroundings than she’d expected. She knew, however, that she was thoroughly committed to her course. No chance to reconsider. 

Lord Owain, the ambassador from Rebma to Amber, had escorted her into the room and had provided her with a murmured description of who was where as they walked. He kept her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow and even thought to warn her when they stepped onto a carpet that she might have tripped over.

She was more than a little surprised by this courtesy. She knew that his presence at her side had more to do with Llewella than it did with her, in and of herself, but it was reassuring to have someone at her side.

The King had chosen to receive her without a large audience. From what Lord Owain said, almost everyone present was part of the royal family or likely to be concerned with helping Vialle settle into her new quarters, her new life.

Vialle and Lord Owain stopped about twenty feet into the room. Lord Owain said quietly, “His majesty is about ten feet away and just a little to your left as you face forward. Curtsey and smile. He likes a pretty face.”

Vialle pretended that she hadn’t heard the words about exactly where the King was and made a little extra show of turning her face from one side to the other as if she had no idea at all where anything was. She dropped a curtsey of the same depth and formality that she’d have offered Queen Moire, and she felt Lord Owain bowing, too. She let nervousness show clearly on her face. It helped that it wasn’t even slightly feigned.

“So you are my little brother’s wife.” The King’s voice was deeper than Random’s and pitched to carry to the edges of the room. Random had told her that Eric was bigger than he was, so she assumed that the King must look impressive. 

Or maybe, knowing that she couldn’t see him, he hadn’t bothered? Vialle managed a small, nervous smile then bit her lip and nodded. “Your majesty.” She didn’t try to say more. She could feel eyes upon her. Which only made sense given that seeing her was the point of being there at all for most of them.

“Welcome to Amber.”

She tried to interpret his tone, to find something beyond the words, but she knew that was nervousness more than any hope that she’d find much. She dipped into another, much shallower curtsey. “Thank you. I… Being on land is very odd.”

“I’m sure it must be.” This time, she was quite sure there was a smile in his voice. At least, he intended public courtesy and friendliness. She could certainly work with that.

Maybe the courtesy would extend further. Maybe it wouldn't. She'd find out.

“The King is coming toward us,” Lord Owain told her. “I must step back.”

Vialle felt a chill at suddenly being alone. She rubbed one arm, turned her head as if hoping to find something, and allowed herself to look bereft.

“My lady?” The King’s voice was much softer now. “Will you do me the honor of taking my arm?”

At this distance, she couldn’t mistake just where he was, but she turned a little as if she weren’t sure and reached out a tentative hand. “Thank you.” She made the words the barest whisper.

The fabric of his sleeve felt stiff and rough under her hand. No fabric in Rebma ever felt that way. The shape and feel of his arm told her that Random had probably spoken truly about his older brother’s size. She felt a tiny spike of anger at Random again for being so completely foolish. What had he thought would happen?

King Eric led Vialle around to meet three of her husband’s brothers and one sister. None of the men did more than bow over her hand and declare themselves charmed. She tried to fix their voices in her head, but with only a word or two each, she wasn’t certain she’d succeeded. She had no opportunity to hear them walk, and since she didn’t know what any of them might see if she weren’t hiding herself, she didn’t dare try to use non-physical senses.

Princess Florimel, however, took her arm and pulled her away from the King. “It will be lovely to have another woman in the family.” She pressed up against Vialle’s side in a way that the King hadn’t. “I have some lovely rooms picked out for you. After dinner, I’ll take you there and introduce you to your maid.”

Vialle heard ‘your maid’ and translated it as ‘spy.’ She wasn’t particularly bothered by that since she’d assumed someone would watch her. 

She did wonder if it would occur to either the maid or the Princess that it was odd for a blind woman to have brought cosmetics or for Vialle’s wardrobe to include udarin, the weighted cords that most women in Rebma used to keep their clothing from floating in awkward directions. Vialle’s weren’t quite usual and could double as weapons at need. She didn’t relish the idea of using them, but she would if she had to.

Vialle and Llewella had concluded, with some regret, that there was no way to justify the sort of hair ornaments that could double as weapons. Eric might know that Vialle’s hair was short and wonder at how she managed to grow it out quickly. It wasn’t worth the risk of exposing the fact that Vialle had access to Shadow. (“And,” Llewella had noted, “Moire definitely wouldn’t miss it.”)

Vialle considered responding to Princess Florimel’s friendliness but discarded it. If she accepted a pleasant room while Random remained in the dungeon, the King might ‘forget’ that Vialle had asked to be with her husband. So she turned back toward where the King had been and said, “Random?” in a plaintive voice. “I only want to be with my husband.” She let her voice tremble as if she was terrified but determined. None of them had seen her at the Rebman court. None of them would know that she never let anything disturb her facade.

Princess Florimel went quite still. After a silence that lasted almost a minute, she said, “Random’s not--” She squeezed Vialle’s arm as if to offer reassurance.

“Random’s current quarters,” King Eric interrupted smoothly, “are not an appropriate place for a gentle born lady.”

Vialle tried to balance fear and determination in the face she showed to her husband’s family. “I had not assumed otherwise.” She pulled her arm out of Princess Florimel’s grasp and stepped to one side so that they could see her standing alone. “Wherever he is, I came to be with him.”

Someone-- Vialle could only assume one of the Princes-- started laughing. “She’s got you,” he said.

Vialle could almost hear the man’s siblings glaring at him. She thought, based on timbre and cadence, that the speaker was Prince Caine, but she wasn’t certain she had enough to go on because all he’d said before was, “Charmed.”

“What? We all know it. Even she knows it.” After a moment, he went on with no laughter at all in his voice. “But it’s a hell of a gamble she took.”

After a moment, the King laughed, too. He didn’t sound even a bit angry, so Vialle relaxed a little. “Well played, my lady,” he said at last. “Well played. We will find rooms secure enough to keep him but… pleasant enough to house you.” He touched her arm, just the lightest pressure of fingertips. “It is not a risk you should have taken. Random is not worthy of it.”

Vialle was not going to tell him that he didn’t know Random at all. “I have-- will only ever have-- one husband. That is the way of things.” She felt as if she should apologize to Random for those words, for implying that it was the relationship rather than the person who mattered, but she also knew that he’d understand. Then she wondered what she’d do if the King offered her a divorce and remarriage.

But he didn’t. Perhaps he thought that a blind woman could do no better than his little brother. Vialle agreed, but she didn’t think she was settling.


	4. Ashes at Thy Feet

Vialle knew that someone was watching her. She was used to people noticing her, to feeling them staring, but this was different. There was a weight to it and an almost predatory consideration. She hadn’t felt this much threat while in Amber’s castle. She had felt it once or twice in Rebma, however, and it usually meant that some man assumed she was easy prey. 

Given who her husband was, Vialle was nearly certain that no ordinary man would take the risk of offending her. Even if Random didn’t retaliate, his siblings were likely to. Not because they loved Random or particularly cared about her but because it set a bad precedent to allow that sort of thing.

Which really left only a few options, most of which she discarded out of hand. If Gerard or Julian had wanted to be nasty, they’d had years. Caine and Eric were dead, and Brand had fled. Corwin’s presence was fairly firm, and he had a strong, friendly connection to her husband. Also, Random had admitted that Corwin had asked him, before the wedding, to be kind to her. Vialle knew that Random considered that request the only reason they had what they now did.

Benedict had looked at her and when he spoke, she could hear a smile in his voice. She rather thought he knew exactly where she hid her fangs and understood that she could and would use them. 

She was pretty sure that Bleys would attempt to seduce her if she gave the slightest sign of encouragement. If he was bored, he’d probably try even without encouragement. But she thought he’d accept a no.

Llewella was definitely not an enemy, and Vialle had gotten to know Deirdre in the year after the wedding. She didn’t consider Deirdre a threat of this sort. 

Flora had generally been kind while Vialle and Random were Eric’s prisoners. Vialle knew that it was largely because Eric was uncomfortable holding Vialle at all and had wanted a woman he trusted to make sure she was well looked after. Flora had gone a bit beyond that, and Vialle still felt grateful. And Flora had made sure that Vialle and Random had weapons and an open door when it looked like the demons attacking Amber might reach the castle.

Vialle didn’t care for Fiona at all, but the threat she felt from Fiona was very different from what she felt now. Fiona had looked at Vialle, considered her, and discarded her as not worth cultivating. Vialle was quite certain that Fiona would try to kill her if it would be even a tiny bit useful, but she was also certain that Fiona had failed to see any way in which that could serve her.

And Vialle really didn’t think the watcher was a woman.

Since she now knew who the watcher had to be, she wasn’t surprised to feel the threat coming nearer. She turned her face toward the power she felt and smiled. “Your majesty.” She wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t know her husband’s father. He would probably assume she’d recognized his footsteps or had smelled the scent he favored. “Your gait is different now that you’re no longer Ganelon.” She hadn’t much liked Ganelon, but she hadn’t feared him the way she feared Oberon. She wondered how he’d hidden his power from her before. Ganelon had seemed-- not ordinary but not anything to worry about.

Oberon was the one person whose opinion might destroy her marriage. She wondered if he’d tell Random to leave her or if he’d make sure that something happened to get her out of the way. He might try to bribe her to leave, of course, but she was fairly certain that he already knew that that wouldn’t work.

Oberon’s hand enveloped hers and raised it so that he could brush it with his lips. "Charmed.” The smile in his voice was almost convincing, but Vialle was no fool. “I must admit, I was surprised to hear that one of my children had married, but seeing you, I understand.”

Vialle kept her face carefully composed as she considered the possibility that her father-in-law was planning to seduce her. It was a viable ploy. If she said yes, she’d destroy her marriage. If she said no, Oberon would make her life hell and likely Random’s as well. But she’d expected something either much subtler or more direct.

She smiled as if he’d given her a sincere compliment. “Random is very dear to me.”

Oberon finally released her hand. He sat beside her and leaned toward her

She heard the stiff fabric of his clothing complain as it bent and folded, and she wondered why he wore such things. She could feel just the vaguest warmth from his breath, telling her that he was facing her. “I don’t suppose you can tell me about Random as a child? He rather avoids the question.”

Random had actually told her enough about his childhood that she felt no regret over not growing up as Oberon’s daughter. She suspected that Oberon would have to dig deep to find stories of how adorable Random had been as a toddler. If Oberon had noticed Random at all, it had probably been to be annoyed by the attention he needed. Llewella had been right that Oberon wanted children for some reason other than enjoying having them around.

Oberon offered her anecdotes that she was certain he was inventing from whole cloth and used those as pretext to ask about her childhood and family.

She carefully avoided specifying her age or mentioning her mother’s name. She wasn’t sure he’d even known her mother’s name, but Martin might have mentioned that she’d been a woman grown when he was born. If Oberon thought to count years.... 

Then again, Martin knew that her connection to Amber was secret and that her longevity was part of that.

But Martin trusted Oberon. No. Martin thought that Oberon needed him. Vialle wasn’t convinced that Oberon needed anyone. He wanted Corwin to further some scheme, however, and he couldn’t currently get Corwin without Random. Corwin repaid loyalty in kind.

Which, Vialle hoped, made Oberon taking steps to remove her less likely. He had to know that Random wasn’t the only one who would object, and Llewella could actually be dangerous to Amber if she choose.

“Your children are very interesting people,” she said after a few moments of silence. “So many different ways of pursuing power.”

She heard him move next to her, not as if to get up, more as if he’d twitched and accidentally brought two hard things together. She sighed. “I’m not a complete innocent, your majesty. I’ve been part of Amber’s court for several years and part of Rebma’s court all through my childhood.” She wondered if he disliked the reminder that his children were finding their own paths and no longer danced to his tune.

“Do you pursue power?” The words sounded casual enough, and Vialle wondered why Oberon bothered to conceal the threat beneath.

She laughed very softly. “If I’d wanted that, I’d not have married for it.” She shook her head. “I had no need to leave Rebma.”

“Yes.” He sounded like he didn’t understand, like he knew the facts but couldn’t make sense of them.

“I don’t play your children’s games.” Which was completely a lie, but she hoped he might believe it given that she played for stakes he probably couldn’t even perceive. Then again, he’d probably had wives and mistresses who played for similar stakes.

But, based on what Random said, Vialle wasn’t sure Oberon had ever actually perceived any of his women, not as people with agency. He certainly didn’t see his daughters that way. She wondered if that was why so few daughters had survived to adorn his court.

“You would have difficulty doing that.” For the first time, he sounded genuinely amused.

She wondered why, if he thought that, he was bothering to talk to her. Maybe she had managed to throw him off? She didn’t want to assume, and she also didn’t want him to think her unfit. At least she was fairly sure that the tricks Llewella had taught her for concealing her connection to the Pattern were working. Her being Oberon’s kin by blood would give him an entirely different-- and potentially more powerful-- lever for destroying her marriage.

She just stopped herself from biting her lip. He wouldn’t miss that, and it wouldn’t fit with the face she was presenting. She smiled at him instead. “To be able to alter reality…” She put awe and wonder into the words. “Random has promised to take me into Shadow some day, once all of the fighting is done.”

“Indeed.”

Vialle wondered if Oberon guessed at what she hadn’t said-- that it was unlikely they would ever come back, not while Oberon lived at any rate. Vialle wanted children, and nothing she’d found in Amber made her think it anything but poisonous. If she had ever thought that Llewella exaggerated their father’s evil influence, she no longer believed it. 

“Is Amber actually stronger for the choices you’ve made?” she asked him softly, letting her awareness of the dead, the fled, and the corrupted into her words. She wasn’t sure she should let Oberon know that she perceived it, but she was suddenly angry at him, angry enough that it overcame her caution.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t leave, but he didn’t respond in any other way that she could perceive.

A chill went through her at the realization of what she’d said, and the anger dissolved into bewilderment that crystallized into determination. “That was out of character for me,” she told him. “What did you do?”

“Forgive me,” he said. “I had to know.” He didn’t sound as if what he’d discovered made him happy.

“Your family is as you have made it.” She hesitated. She reached out and touched his arm. She was glad that it was where she expected it to be. “Random liked Ganelon.” It was the only comfort she could offer. She wasn’t sure why she should bother. Except that she was not a monster. He was; she wouldn’t be.

He put his hand over hers, just the lightest touch. “Random is very lucky,” he said after a moment. “I would not have dared to marry a woman like you.” He stood and walked away.

She wondered if he ever looked back.


End file.
